


Settling In To Stay

by Alyndra



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Moving In Together, Multi, destruction of property
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-07 13:17:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17366564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alyndra/pseuds/Alyndra
Summary: Gaby was the only one who already had a flat, as the only one previously employed with MI6, and she offered to put the two men up for the night. “I’m afraid it’s too tiny to be very comfortable for all three of us, but it will do for a night or two.”





	Settling In To Stay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [james](https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/gifts).



> I was so happy to discover the Holly Poly challenge just in time to sign up, and thrilled I was able to write it despite my crazy January! Thanks to Blindswandive for betaing. For anybody who hasn’t seen it, The Man From U.N.C.L.E. is a very fun, very threesomey spy movie based on the classic (and slashy) TV show of the same name.
> 
> James, hope you enjoy!

They returned from Turkey high on life, a second successful mission under their belts, and went straight to MI6’s offices in London to recite the details in triplicate for Waverly’s debriefing process. Their new U.N.C.L.E. headquarters would be close by, they were informed, and therefore it was recommended that they seek accomodations in London, if they had not already done so, after they were turned loose.

Gaby was the only one who already had a flat, as the only one previously employed with MI6, and she offered to put the two men up for the night. “I’m afraid it’s too tiny to be very comfortable for all three of us, but it will do for a night or two.”

“It can hardly be closer quarters than that awful ship’s belly,” Napoleon said practically. “And we managed not to kill each other for forty-odd hours in there.”

All three of them shuddered at the memory: unable to stand up straight or fully stretch out lying down, packed in like sardines in the pitch darkness and unable to make any noise that could potentially lead to their discovery by the criminal enterprise operating the ship. The fact that they had come out still speaking to each other, much less still a well-functioning team, spoke well of their higher-ups’ decision to keep them working together. Good partnerships, like true love, were struck rarely—and not to be squandered over things like the fractious relationships of their respective mother countries.

“I am sure Gaby’s lodging will be a great improvement over that,” Illya said. He, as the tallest, should have suffered the most from the cramped space, but instead he had phlegmatically kept Gaby and Napoleon, both far more used to constant physical activity, sane with intellectual games, language lessons, and other shared expertise. If it was only to protect himself from restless elbows, it was nonetheless valuable.

“I should hope so,” Gaby sniffed.

* * *

Gaby’s flat was everything she had advertised it as: two rooms, bedroom and kitchen/dining, plus bathroom and closet. It also had noisy neighbors who drunkenly partied and screamed at each other the whole first night. “I’m sorry,” Gaby said. “They weren’t there when I moved in, and I haven’t been here much lately.”

“Is not for you to apologize,” Illya said, and went to bang on their door. 

Illya did a truly wonderful imposing loom which was largely wasted on the neighbors, who were too drunk to appreciate its finer points. Napoleon then hit upon the grand plan of offering them money to vacate the flat, which was also wasteful but did wind up with the neat end result that Napoleon and Illya signed the lease to move in the next day. The two flats combined were just about the right-sized living space for them all, they agreed, hampered mainly by the inconvenience of having to go through a door to the hallway and another door to the other rooms. This inconvenience was minor and highly livable, on the grand scale of things. 

It was a week before Gaby, while drunken-wrestling Illya, ‘accidentally’ threw him into the wall between their apartments, making a very large hole right where it would be convenient for a doorway to be.

They stared at the hole for no more than half a day before they went in and deliberately widened it, first to doorway-size and then even bigger, an archway taking up most of the wall that separated the two rooms. 

“What if the landlord objects?” Illya asked. 

“Then we will disarm him with money and charm,” Napoleon said. “I volunteer to provide the charm.” 

Gaby snorted. “I will charm the landlord, and you may provide the money,” she said. “Illya can loom in case money and charm is not enough.”

Illya thought about protesting that his strength was not to be used for such purposes, and then he said instead, “I cannot imagine he would fail to be charmed by such beautiful people. But perhaps we will not call our little modification to his attention. Better if he is not here to see, yes?”

“Indeed,” Napoleon said mildly. “Now, I would like to see about ordering an absolutely enormous bed.”

Their bedroom had come with a fairly large bed already, and Napoleon and Illya had both been sleeping in it by dint of neither one having been willing to take the couch in the main room, which was suspiciously stained, smelly, and had been summarily ejected on their first day. Instead, Napoleon had planted his bag on one side of the bed and Illya had planted his on the other, and they had stared at each other for a long moment and then wordlessly agreed that neither one was going to back down or move, and moreover that that was surprisingly okay. They had been sharing the bed peacefully ever since; or at least it would have been peaceful, except that most nights Gaby came in from her rooms and her own small bed and plopped herself in the middle of theirs while they watched movies. Gaby took up three times the space she should because of her restless elbows. She also hit them sometimes just to emphasize a point she was making, but neither Napoleon nor Illya had given the slightest hint that she should leave.

Illya instantly saw the sense of a bigger bed. “I like the way you think, cowboy.”

“I can just imagine what you two are thinking,” Gaby sniffed. “I hope it is as much fun as what I am thinking.”

“Mostly we are thinking of being jabbed by fewer elbows,” Illya told her. “Then we are thinking of being able to roll over in our sleep. Is this what you mean by ‘fun?’

“I am thinking of a bed big enough to have a pillow war in,” Gaby said, smirking.

“Pillow fight?” Napoleon mused. “Yes, that could be fun.”

Gaby smiled, slow like a shark. “Do you really think,” she asked, looking back and forth between them, “that if I hit you with a pillow, it will be anything less than all-out war?”

“I think you are very dangerous woman,” Illya said, coming over to wrap his arms around her from the back affectionately. “And a war between us could be very bad. Perhaps we must think of other things we can do to entertain ourselves in this giant bed we will have.” His eyes lifted over Gaby’s head and met Napoleon’s. 

They had been flirting since they met, all three of them; Napoleon flirted like he breathed. But the demands of business and not dying in a multitude of humiliating ways had kept it to just flirting. 

But the flirting had been escalating the entire time they’d been here. The entire time they’d known each other, really. It was frankly amazing it hadn’t reached a breaking point sooner.

Napoleon met Illya’s gaze a long moment, and then he stepped in closer. Gaby wrapped one arm up behind her head, fingers resting lightly around the back of Illya’s neck, and stared up at Napoleon with a challenge in her eyes. 

“I think there are a great many things we could do together,” Napoleon said, voice low and not quite as smooth as usual, and ran his fingers down the side of Gaby’s neck. 

“Perhaps we do not need to wait for a bigger bed,” Illya said, and with one hand drew Napoleon’s head in and down, not to his own mouth but to Gaby’s. Gaby kissed hungrily and well, Illya observed, teasing and devouring, and Napoleon fell into it with his whole self, losing that ever-present reserve he kept about himself. 

Illya could hardly wait.

* * *

“And you’ve arranged suitable accommodations for yourselves by now?” Waverly asked offhandedly at the conclusion of their next meeting with him. 

“Yes,” Illya grunted.

“Excellent, you can write your addresses here and I’ll have them sent to Accounting for you.” Waverly proffered pens and empty forms across the table.

“Gaby had some problem neighbors,” Napoleon explained smoothly as they filled them out. “Now they aren’t bothering her any more, and also—conveniently--we found a place to stay while we’re in London.”

“Sounds like an interesting story,” Waverly said, raising an eyebrow.

“It all worked out for the best,” Gaby said. Illya thought she looked entirely too smug, like a cat in the cream, to be referring to the neighbors. But she was very good: Waverly had only just furrowed his brow when she added, “No one died.”

Waverly’s expression cleared. “No, nevermind, I don’t need to know. Just keep the police and the news out of it and I won’t ever have to. Are we clear?”

“As crystal,” Napoleon said, actually clicking his heels together. 

“Dismissed,” Waverly said, shaking his head fondly. 

They gathered their things and started back to their fl—no. Illya realized with some surprise that how he thought about it had changed. 

They went _home_. It had a nice ring to it.


End file.
